This article is found on page 14 in the Fall 2004 issue. When the Europeans first came to South Texas, the land was covered with grass, and the only trees were along the rivers. That is the way South Texas had been for millions of years, but that changed in the 1800s when the ranchers started stocking the area with cattle. The cattle kept the grass eaten down, and that gave the trees and brush a chance to spread over the area.
By the early 1900s, South Texas was known as the "brush country" of Texas. Even with the invasion of brush, this area is still excellent cattle country. The biggest problem, until recently, was screwworms, insects that lay their eggs in the navels of newborn animals. If left untreated, the hatched larvae will eventually kill a calf or a fawn.
South Texas ranchers ran mostly cows and calves on their ranches in the early 1900s, but, as the screwworm infestation increased, ranchers changed to running steers. The earliest ranchers drove their cattle north to Kansas and elsewhere to be shipped by railroad to the heavily populated eastern markets. The steers were kept on the ranches until they were three or four years old, then rounded up for the famous trail drives. As the brush grew thicker in South Texas, it became more of a problem to round up the steers.
There would always be a few steers called outlaws that would get away during roundups. These outlaw steers would get away the next year, and two or three others would run off with them and learn their bad habits. Even after the trail drives ended, these outlaw steers continued to be a problem during roundups in the brush country.
Before pickups and trailers became available to haul the cattle to the corrals after they had been roped, they had to be led one way or another to the corrals. One way was for the cowboy who had roped the outlaw animal to dally the rope-take several wraps around the saddle horn-and start pulling it toward the corrals. Another cowboy would ride his horse right behind the steer, pushing him as the other cowboy was pulling him. This was slow, tedious work, and, if you had a long way to go, was hard on the steers, the cowboys, and the horses. I've gone that route lots of times.
Another way was to use a lead burro to get the critter to the corrals. I never used it, but other cowboys told me about this method, including my father, who used it while he was in Mexico. The specially trained burro would wear a thick leather collar around its neck. After an outlaw steer had been roped and necked to a tree, the burro would be led close to the steer. A rope would be attached to a steel ring in the burro's collar, and the steer would be turned loose from the tree.
The steer would immediately try to run away, pulling the donkey with it. At first it would be a real tug of war until the burro got the steer heading for the home corral. As long as the two were going in the direction of the corrals, everything was fine with the burro, but when the steer changed direction, the burro would jerk him around in the right direction.
The burros had a unique way to make the steer move if it stopped. The burro would hit the steer with his hard tail to make him move. Sometimes, it would take a day or two for the burro to get the steer to the corral, but, eventually, both animals would arrive.
Another way was to use older lead steers to lead the outlaw steers to the headquarters. This was done just like the burro method except the lead steers weren't equipped with a tail like the burros.
There was another unusual method of handling wild steers that wasn't used very often, but I used it once. I was helping a rancher round up a big pasture near the Nueces River. There were two 8-year-old steers in this pasture that had gotten away from the cowboys every time they rounded up. The owner wanted them caught because they created lots of trouble at every roundup.
The pasture had about 2,000 acres in it, and it was nearly solid brush. There were no ranch roads, so we couldn't rope the two steers and haul them out. Six months before, the rancher had put 50 gentle 2-year-old steers in the pasture. He thought the two outlaw steers would take up with the gentle steers and would stay with them as they were driven to the headquarters corrals.
There were about eight of us cowboys on the roundup, including two vaqueros who grew up working cattle on ranches near Musquiz, Mexico. They were top hands that had worked lots of wild cattle in the brush country of Mexico and South Texas.
We found all the steers on the south side of the pasture near a small holding trap that joined some old corrals. The area was fairly open, and the two bad steers were with the gentle steers. We tried to hold them next to the small trap, but the two outlaw steers couldn't stand being that close to humanity, and they took off like they were shot out of a cannon. The herd was in the only open country in the pasture, so I roped one real quick, and one of the vaqueros roped the other one. Two other cowboys heeled them and stretched them out on the ground. We took the ropes off their heads and left the heelers holding them on the ground.
Our plan was to drive the gentle herd to the roped steers, let them up, and maybe they would stay in the herd while we drove them across the brushy pasture to the headquarters corrals. With the gentle steers milling around the two wild steers, the two heelers rode up enough to slacken their ropes, allowing the steers to kick loose and get up. But, instead of staying with the gentle cattle, the outlaws took off again for the heavy brush.
Two more cowboys roped them, and two other cowboys heeled them, and they stretched them out on the ground again. It was obvious that those two outlaws were not going to stay in the herd for the drive to the headquarters corrals.
The two vaqueros said they could "fix" the two steers to keep them in the herd. We Texas cowboys were curious as to how the vaqueros were going to make them stay with the other steers. I didn't think there was any way, but the two vaqueros insisted they had used this method several times in Mexico. They told us to keep both steers stretched out on the ground with ropes on their heels and heads.
They wanted a cowboy to dismount and hold each steer's head while they did their procedures. First, they cut several small mesquite thorns from a mesquite tree. Then they pulled the steer's eyelids together and stuck the small thorns through the upper and lower eyelids. This kept the steer's eyes closed, and the tough eyelids didn't even bleed. They told the cowboys to slack their ropes and let the steers get up. The steers got to their feet but didn't take off like they had before.
The vaqueros then told us to drive the herd around in a circle for a while. The two blind steers went right along with the rest of the cattle. They could probably see a little bit, but not enough to take off running. We drove the herd several miles through the heavy brush, and the two outlaws never once tried to break out of the herd. They went right into the corrals at the headquarters where we roped and heeled them so the vaqueros could take the thorns out of the eyelids.
With the eyelids opened, the two steers acted as wild as ever, but now they were in a solid corral and ready to be shipped to market. I never used that method again, but it sure worked well.
Editor's Note: This story is an excerpt from Jack Kingsbery's excellent collection Yes, I'm Still Alive. For more information call; 830-374-3803.
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